


Eyghon

by rippergiles



Series: Our Time [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 17:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16664950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippergiles/pseuds/rippergiles
Summary: 1975. Some things come together, and some things begin to fall apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Christos Gage and Rebekah Issacs for a sampling of their dialogue from Angel & Faith.
> 
> I did not use the archive warnings for rape/non-con or depictions of graphic violence, because they do not quite apply. However, some references to violence of a sexual nature does occur in this chapter, so keep that in mind if it may be upsetting to you.
> 
> I have reformatted this work since publishing it, so some previous comments may not match up with the chapter they were left on. My apologies for any confusion.

_When you fall asleep_  
 _With your head upon my shoulder_  
 _When you're in my arms_  
 _But you've gone somewhere deeper_  
  
_Are you going to age with grace?_  
 _Are you going to age without mistakes?_  
 _Are you going to age with grace?_  
 _Or only to wake and hide your face?_  
  
_When oblivion is calling out your name_  
 _You always take it further than I ever can_  
 _When you play it hard_  
 _And I try to follow you there_  
 _It's not about control_  
 _But I turn back when I see where you go_  
**-Oblivion, Bastille**  
  
  
  
  
  
         Ripper punched the wall of the jail cell, hissing when the flesh over his knuckles tore apart. The guard outside the bars gave him a half-hearted glare and grunt from the desk he was sitting at. Ripper threw himself onto the bench, hanging his head.  
  
        “Erm, excuse me?”  
  
        He looked up. Across the cell was a mousy-looking man, nervously rubbing his hands on his jeans.  
  
        “Do you know how long they’re going to keep us in here?” the man asked.  
  
        Rupert sighed. He had nothing better to do, so he supposed he might as well talk to his cellmate.  
  
        “I guess that depends on what they booked you for.”  
  
        “Oh,” the man said quietly. “Shoplifting. I tried to steal some flowers, and a vase, you know? For my mum. It’s her birthday.”  
  
        Rupert struggled not to laugh. As jailworthy offenses went, that was a new one.  
  
        “I’m sure you’ll be released by morning. Do you have someone coming for you?”  
  
        The young man looked at his feet. “No. My mum is probably wondering why I haven’t called.”  
  
        This endeared him to Rupert, who was distantly wondering when he’d last spoken to either of his own parents.  
  
        “What’s your name?”  
  
        The stranger looked up, brightening. “Philip. What’s yours?”  
  
        Something twinged in Rupert’s gut. He thought about Phillip at the Watcher Academy, remembered seeing the light leave his eyes as the Lorophage fed on him, Rupert helpless to stop it. Other feelings followed, guilt and anger and a desire to forget everything that place did to him.  
  
        “Call me Ripper.”  
  
        “Cool!” Philip said without a hint of irony. “Do you have someone coming to pick you up?”  
  
        Just then, they both jerked, looking through the bars of the cell as a series of crashes echoed down the hallway. The guard on duty, seemingly grumpy at the interruption of his crossword puzzle, got up to investigate. Without a look at the occupants of the cell, he shuffled through the room’s door, closing it behind him.  
  
         Rupert smiled. “I just might.”


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
        Ethan scowled at Diedre, who looked panicked as she struggled fruitlessly to put everything back on the shelf, including the shattered pieces of coffee mug and the box of records that had created an avalanche of paper onto the floor of the police station. He’d cast a glamour to help the two of them not be noticed, but the noise and destruction Diedre had caused by tripping and falling into a shelf could hardly be ignored. They would have to improvise.  
  
        He heard footsteps coming from behind the door to his right. The middle of the night in a small station like this, he figured there couldn’t be more than a few cops on duty. But that was still a few too many. Ethan slid behind the door a moment before a stout and rather irritable-looking officer passed through it from the other side, pushing the door onto Ethan’s toes. Diedre stood paralysed, her eyes wide and questioning toward Ethan, whose energy was focused on not shouting out in pain as he un-wedged his shoe from beneath the steel door. The cop spotted her and launched into a grumbling rant about what she thought she was doing.  
  
          _Distract him_ Ethan mouthed to her from behind the cop.  
  
        Diedre snapped back into action, clapping her hands to her face and shaking her head at the mess on the carpet. “Oh  _gosh_ , Officer, I’m sorry about that. I’m just so clumsy.”  
  
        Ethan thought she was laying it on a little thick, but apparently the cop didn’t, because he visibly softened before replying. “And what does a lovely young lady like yourself need from London’s finest?”  
  
        Ethan caught an admirable flutter of eyelashes from Dee before he slipped around the door and into the hallway beyond.  



	3. Chapter 3

  
        Rupert stood as the door burst open, Ethan rushing in looking frazzled.  
  
        “Ethan! How’d you know where I was?”  
  
        “I have ways of finding you, Ripper, but now’s not the time,” Ethan replied as he closed his eyes and placed his hands on the locking mechanism to the cell. A few mumbled words in Latin later, Rupert heard a  _click_ , and Ethan was pulling open the bars.  
  
        “Who’s that?” Ethan asked, gesturing to Philip, whose eyes were wide with awe at Ethan’s maneuver.  
  
        “I’m Philip!” he piped up, striding forward to extend a hand toward Ethan. Ethan stared down at the hand in derision, making no move to shake it.  
  
        “He’s coming with us,” Rupert said as he slipped out of the cell, grabbing Philip’s arm and dragging him out alongside.  
  
        “He is?”  
  
        “I am?”  
  
        Rupert looked at Philip incredulously. “Unless you’d rather stay?” Philip shook his head fervently. Rupert turned to Ethan. “How do we get out of here? Where’s Diedre?”  
  
        “She’s making eyes at a copper out there, but I don’t know how long she can distract him. She’ll be okay getting out on her own. We’ll see if we can make you two less obvious.”  
  
       Ethan took Rupert’s hand, heat roaring just beneath the surface. Rupert took Philip’s hand and indicated for them to close the circle. Ethan began to chant, which seemed to terrify Philip almost as much as the prospect of being stuck in jail. Soon, Rupert felt heat travel into his core, then spread out, transforming into what felt like a cool, silky cloak enveloping him. Philip gasped beside him, gripping Rupert’s hand tighter.  
  
        “Okay,” Ethan said, dropping his hands. “Move slowly and carefully, we don’t need another shelf knocked over. Don’t call attention to yourself, and none should come. Follow me.”  
  
        He walked back into the hallway, Rupert following him and Philip following Rupert. When they reached the doorway at the other end, Rupert peered around it to see Diedre, casually sitting on a desk and flashing a smile at the guard as she twirled one of her dark curls around her finger.  
  
        “So do they make those uniforms custom, you know?” Dee asked, running her hand along the guard’s arm. “The color looks great.”  
  
        They carefully stepped over the still-untouched pile of papers as they passed behind the cop. Dee made eye contact with Rupert, and he grinned at the twinkle he found there. Ethan beckoned them forward, pointing toward the front door. Rupert pushed it slowly, trying to avoid any loud creaking, and opened it just enough for Ethan and Philip to slide through. He followed behind them, still quietly, aware that the large open windows of the police station would afford them no cover. When they reached the corner of the building and crossed the street, the three of them exhaled together, releasing tension from their shoulders.  
  
        “Next time you’ve got pent-up frustration,” Ethan grumbled, “find me instead of punching out some copper.”  
  
        “I didn’t punch out a copper!” Rupert said crossly, before his mouth betrayed him by turning up in the corners. “I was punching the bartender. The copper got in the way of my elbow.”  
  
        “Thanks for getting me out, too,” Philip said meekly. Ethan raised his eyebrows at Rupert, who grinned.  
  
        “Ethan, do you know any flower shops around here?”  



	4. Chapter 4

  
        Ethan reached up, grasping the vase as it slowly levitated toward him. Rupert leaned out of the open window several feet above him, dropping a bouquet of wildflowers. They floated to the ground slowly, impressing Ethan with how controlled and elegant Ripper’s magic could be. He wasn’t sure why they were on this errand for some random lad’s mother, but it seemed important to Ripper, and what he wanted, he usually got. Ethan arranged the flowers in the vase and handed it to Philip.  
  
        “Cheers,” Philip said weakly, staring in concern as Rupert descended the storm drain with apparent ease. “What... _are_ you guys?”  
  
        “Other than dashingly handsome?” Ethan replied as he ogled Rupert’s backside gliding toward the ground. “Sorcerers, I suppose.”  
  
        “I prefer ‘Warlock’,” Rupert said as his feet hit the ground. “Sounds cooler. Philip, where’s your mum live?”  
  
        “Whitechapel.”  
  
        “Near us, innit?” Ripper said, poking Ethan in the arm. He’d picked up the annoying habit of donning a working-class accent when meeting new people. Counterintuitive as it was, Ethan knew the intent was the same as people who strived to speak in perfect English- Ripper was aiming to impress. Ethan loved him enough to let it pass without remark.  
  
        “We’ll drop you off on our way home,” Ethan told Philip as they started to walk.  
  
        “Do you think I could come hang out with you guys sometime?” Philip asked, and his eagerness made Ethan begin to understand why Rupert had insisted on taking him. Ethan glanced at the mark peeking out from under Rupert’s t-shirt sleeve. He’d felt unsure about bringing Randall and Thomas in to the powers Eyghon gave them, but their near-nightly rituals since had shown them both eager to prove themselves. This kid, though… Ethan wasn’t sure if he was ready.  
  



	5. Chapter 5

  
        Rupert crossed his legs beneath him on the floor of the bookshop, adjusting his guitar in his lap. Ethan sat on the counter, stacks of books to be shelved surrounding him. There hadn’t been a customer in hours, but that didn’t mean Ethan had accomplished any actual work in the meantime. He’d returned to a book of gods and goddesses, one Rupert had seen him pull out and pore over several times over the last few months. Guitar strings sent gentle notes floating through the shelves and stacks of the cramped bookshop, sometimes accompanied by Rupert humming or singing softly under his breath, trying not to break Ethan’s concentration.  
  
         “Listen to this,” Ethan said suddenly, surprising Rupert when he saw Ethan holding a new book, this one a small black paperback.  
  
         Ethan cleared his throat and began to read aloud. “Order is an illusion- in the study of disorder vs. that of chaos, the only difference is that disorder implies the existence of order to begin with. Abandoning that ideal, we see reality as it truly is: chaotic. We are all equal under chaos, all equally likely to succeed or fail in any endeavor. Order is only the patterns we force upon nature, or the boxes we try to fit the infinite possibilities of reality into. There is no objective truth.”  
  
        Rupert frowned, trying to make sense of the passage. “I mean, some things are objectively true, proven by millenia of scientific observation,” he began. “Birds fly, fish swim, gas fills the shape of its container--”  
  
        “But why does that have to be the case?” Ethan interrupted. “I’ve seen you, Ripper, your magic can do incredible things- you could easily make a fish fly or a bird swim.”  
  
        “The bird would drown and the fish would asphyxiate. Some things exist as they do for a reason.” Rupert looked up at Ethan, arranging his face in what he hoped passed for curiosity rather than concern. “What’s this about?”  
  
        “This guy, Aleister Crowley,” Ethan began, waving the book in the air, “He talks about embracing chaos as a means of creating results-based magic.”  
  
         “Results-based?”  
  
         Ethan began to speak faster, as if he couldn’t waste a single second before getting every word out. “Instead of fooling around with Latin translations or ancient complicated spells you’re not even sure are gonna work, you simply become an agent of chaos. You pray to a deity for what you want, anything you want. It can even be a god you made up, the intent is the same. The resulting power from the recognition of the world as it is gives you the ability to conjure anything you want. You embrace the infinite possibilities, and the universe rewards you for it by delivering the one possible reality of what you want in that instant.”  
  
        Rupert shook his head. “Ethan, listen to yourself. Don’t you think this sounds a little...I don’t know, cultish?”  
  
        “You should talk,” Ethan said, pointing to their twin arm tattoos. “Like Eyghon isn’t a demon with a cult following.”  
  
       Rupert sighed, frustrated. “Eyghon is an Old One- he existed before us and will exist long after we’re gone. He’s in ancient texts and temples dating back millenia. You’re talking about literally making up gods and worshiping the mere concept of chaos.”  
  
        “But that’s just it!” Ethan said with excitement, gesturing wildly. “ People worship chaos every day by accident - every time you hope for a better tomorrow, every time you think to solve problems through combat or magic or cowardice. Every time you decide to have sex instead of going to church- or doing both at once, I’m not prejudiced. Every one of us is already worshiping chaos, some people just decide to gain a little something back from it.”  
  
         Rupert’s mouth had fallen slightly agape as Ethan finished his impromptu speech.  “Gain something...back?” he asked apprehensively.  
  
       “Think of it this way,” Ethan said, jumping off the counter and settling across from Rupert on the floor, “You go to work, or school, or both. You come home to your tiny excuse for a home that you share with three roommates just like you. You sleep. Maybe you shag, if you’re lucky. You get up and go back to work and do it all again.”  
  
        Rupert opened his mouth to respond, but Ethan waved him off and kept speaking.  
  
        “Then one day, one of your roommates says that there’s this exclusive club where you can drink some beer, have some swinger party with attractive strangers, just go wild. So you go. You enjoy yourself, so next time you go to an even wilder party, and you enjoy yourself some more. Then one day you wake up in a pile of drugs or money or beautiful naked people, whatever it is you could want, and your old dull life now sounds like the most terrible thing possible.”  
  
        Where was this coming from? Wasn’t Ethan happy with him? Rupert didn’t bother trying to disguise the hurt on his face or in his voice. All he could manage to say, quietly and while staring at his lap, was “I don’t think our life is all that terrible.”  
  
        “Of course it isn’t,” Ethan replied, grabbing Rupert’s face and pulling it up to face him. “But imagine everything it  _could_ be.”  
  
        Rupert saw a fire in Ethan’s eyes to match what he felt from his hands, and for the first time it didn’t remind him of cosy nights in bed or the warmth of a good dinner. It felt like wildfire, uncontrollable and unpredictable, full of nothing but destruction. Despite the warmth that surrounded them, Rupert felt a chill go up his spine.

        “Isn’t it better to be in control?” Rupert asked warily, struggling to maintain Ethan’s gaze. “To have some agency over your life?”  
  
       “If you’re the one bringing forth the chaos, that’s a different kind of control,” Ethan replied, gripping Rupert’s hands tighter still. “More exciting, because you never know exactly what will happen.”


	6. Chapter 6

  
      Ethan suspected Rupert had given up arguing with him and just let him talk himself out on the trip home from the bookstore. The lack of reaction really took the fun out of it, so they’d fallen into a tired silence as they approached home.  
  
      Rupert opened the door, Ethan slipping in behind him. Randall was by the fire pit chatting with Philip, who lately seemed to be in the flat as much as any of the four who lived there. Diedre had sank onto Thomas’ lap in the armchair, inches between their faces as Diedre spoke quietly to him. She giggled, swinging her legs, and Ethan saw a genuine smile on Thomas’ face before he closed the gap between them, planting a tender kiss. Glancing back at Philip, Ethan saw him gaze longingly toward Diedre.  _You’re wasting your time, man_.  
  
        Ethan took a seat at the kitchen table and began untying his shoes. The living room had begun to look properly full as Rupert fell into the sofa and yawned.  
  
        “You sure you’re ready for action?” Randall teased.  
  
        Rupert stretched. “Considering my part of the action tonight involves falling asleep, yeah.”  
  
        Randall stood up and began collecting pillar candles from a shelf behind him. Diedre’s smile faltered as she climbed off of Thomas. He held her hand until she stepped too far away to maintain contact, as she began to collect her coat and purse by the door. She’d found an excuse to leave every time it looked like a ritual was about to occur. Ethan didn’t fault her for her caution, but he did think she was missing out on the power the rest of them had gained.  
  
        “I better get going,” she said.  
  
        “We won’t bite, love,” Ethan said quietly to her as he stood. “Unless you want us to.”  
  
        She gave him a wistful smile, then stepped forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe another time, Eth.”  
  
        As she closed the door behind her, Ethan shuffled toward the others. His skin prickled in anticipation of Rupert’s turn being inhabited by Eyghon. They had alternated with each other after that first accidental summoning, but this was the first time Rupert would be possessed with the others present.  
  
        Randall and Thomas had cleared space and were now arranged in a circle in the middle of the floor, leaving room for Ethan. Rupert had scavenged pillows and blankets and made a pad for himself in the center. Philip, who had eagerly accepted Rupert’s invitation to visit the day after being broken out of jail, now looked apprehensive, hanging back from the circle. He had been briefed on what they were doing and agreed to stick around to observe, his curiosity winning out.  
          
        Ethan took his place between two candles, picking up a small wooden box and sprinkling the ashes of burnt herbs amongst the others. Thomas leaned to turn out the lamp closest to him, casting them all in amber candlelight.  
  
         Ethan leaned into the center, intertwining his fingers with Rupert’s and willing his magic forward. As he began to feel energy move between them, he brought himself closer still, whispering in Rupert’s ear. “ _Somnum_.”  
  
        Rupert fell gracefully into the pile of pillows, asleep. Ethan extracted his hand and resumed his place between Thomas and Randall. The marks on their arms were each on display as Ethan began the incantation.  
  
        “O Eyghon, O Sleepwalker--”  
  
        The others joined him, gently swaying as they chanted. The voices ceased as Rupert stirred, his back arching as his body lifted from the floor. His head rolled on his shoulders before rising, green eyes glowing at the other men.  
  
        “Good evening,” came a low, rough voice from Rupert’s mouth. Ethan, Randall, and Thomas bowed their heads, Philip catching on a moment too late as Eyghon spotted him.  
  
        “Ahh, who is this? A new acolyte?”  
  
        “What are you talking about?” Philip asked, hurt on his face at the prospect of Rupert forgetting his name.  
  
        “It’s not him,” Ethan explained. “This is the Sleepwalker. Tell it your name.”  
  
        “Ph-Philip?” he said, quivering.  
  
        An unnerving grin stretched Ripper’s face. “Excellent.”  
  
        Eyghon addressed the rest of them. “The more disciples you bring me, the stronger we will all become.”  
  
        Several minutes passed full of the group doting praise upon Eyghon, a necessary but nauseating practice, as far as Ethan was concerned. What kind of ancient entity needed such ego stroking?  
  
         “Enough,” it said eventually, sensually running Rupert’s hands over his chest. Eyghon glanced around and focused in on Randall, transferring the affection to his chest and arms. Ethan inhaled deeply, trying to remind himself that Rupert wasn’t behind the wheel. Suddenly, Eyghon lunged forward and aggressively kissed Randall, knocking over a lit candle that Thomas scrambled to pick up. Ethan clenched his fists as he felt the color drain from his face, watching Rupert’s mouth devouring Randall’s. Randall, for his part, looked uneasily at him as he squirmed under Rupert’s hands. His lack of reciprocation didn’t go unnoticed- Eyghon followed Randall’s gaze to Ethan, who was trying and failing to maintain a neutral expression.  
  
        “There seems to be a problem among you.”  
  
        Ethan pursed his lips and shook his head in denial, looking downward rather than at the demon wearing Rupert’s skin.  
  
        A blur of motion later and Rupert’s hands were around Ethan’s throat and in his hair, gripping his windpipe and jerking his head upward. The loss of oxygen coupled with adrenaline made Ethan lightheaded, but he had trouble denying the attraction he felt toward this show of dominance.  
  
        “Did you want to be the one to pay tribute tonight, Ethan?” Eyghon taunted, digging Rupert’s fingernails into Ethan’s neck.  
  
        He managed to wheeze out a “yes” before Eyghon shoved him backwards, knocking him onto his back. Before Ethan could recover, Eyghon was on top of him, roughly pulling Ethan’s trousers down around his hips.  
  
        “Most ancient and powerful Eyghon-” Ethan began, intending to request a movement to somewhere more private for this particular form of tribute. His hopes were quashed as Ripper’s mouth crushed his, teeth splitting his lip, Ethan groaning as he tasted blood. Thomas and Randall considerately avoided watching this display, but Philip’s eyes were on him, as round as saucers. Ethan felt his body being moved, closing his eyes as he was flipped onto his stomach. He felt cold air on his arse as the sounds of ripping fabric reached his ears.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

        Rupert felt himself floating down, weightlessness slowly ebbing away. As his body felt it belonged to him again, he opened his eyes and took in those around him. Thomas was avoiding his attention, becoming preoccupied with a loose thread on his sweater. Randall looked at him, but with a frown of uncertainty and something else indiscernible just behind his eyes. Philip’s anxiety was not disguised, looking quickly between him and Ethan, who was somewhat obscured by the corner of the couch he was leaning against.  
  
        Rupert shuffled forward on his knees, Ethan coming into view as he was gingerly pulling his trousers up over the tatters of his undergarments. Rupert’s stomach dropped as he saw the bruises that were beginning to form on Ethan’s hips. Seeing with another pang the blood smeared around Ethan’s swollen mouth, Rupert reached toward his face.  
  
        Ethan flinched backward, painfully tightening the vice around Rupert’s heart. His hand stopped its advance and fell to his side.  
  
        “Ethan…” he whispered, trying to be gentle in voice if he couldn’t comfort Ethan with touch.  
  
        Mournful dark eyes met his, missing the fear or concern Rupert had seen in the others, containing only a resigned sort of melancholy. Ethan shifted, using the arm of the couch to pull himself up, and began trudging toward their bedroom. With a quick glance back at the others, who had silently begun to rearrange the living area, he followed.  
  
        Ethan had crawled into bed, fully clothed, curled up on his side in the dark. Rupert shut the door behind him and slowly approached the bedside.  
  
        “I’m so sorry,” Rupert said, voice cracking as he sat on the bed, staring at Ethan’s back. “I had no idea that would happen.”  
  
        That was mostly true. Their experiences conjuring Eyghon with just the two of them had eventually turned sexual, but it was a seductive dance, something Rupert thought bloomed naturally out of their existing relationship. But as he’d sat in the backseat of his own body, watching Eyghon advance on Randall with no agency to stop it, Rupert had realised that this sexual power play was part of Eyghon’s game all along. He wondered absentmindedly what would have happened if Ethan hadn’t reacted, if Eyghon had continued with Randall. He pushed the thought away, focusing again on the hurt man in front of him.  
  
        “I did,” Ethan said dully. “But I still incited it, rather than watch you with Randall. I couldn’t help myself.” He turned back slightly, looking at Rupert. “Bit fucked, isn’t it?”  
  
        “I’m not sure Randall minded your intervention,” Rupert replied, another wave of shame washing over him.  
  
        Ethan managed a wry smile, then winced as it pulled at his split lip. Rupert instinctively moved toward him, then paused, unable to stomach the thought of Ethan pulling away again.  
  
      “Can I touch you?” he asked quietly. Ethan pulled the covers down next to him, patting the mattress underneath. Rupert slid in carefully, conscious of how much he was moving the bed. He slowly wrapped his arms around Ethan, resisting the urge to hold him tight. Ethan remained tense for a moment, then relaxed into Rupert’s chest, filling him with warmth. He buried his face in Ethan’s hair, the smell of sweat and blood overpowering the aromas he usually associated with Ethan.

          Ethan put his hand over Rupert’s, squeezing it. “I feel disgusting.”  
  
          “Please don’t,” Rupert begged. “What can I do?”  
  
          Ethan turned over to face him, being careful not to strain his sore body. “Honestly? I could do with a shower.”  
  
         Rupert grounded himself, grateful that there was something productive he could do to help repair what he’d damaged between them. He slipped off the bed and walked around it, pulling the blanket off of Ethan. He looked at Ethan’s clothes, cringing as the image of Eyghon removing them replayed in his brain.  
  
        “Maybe you should…” he began, gesturing at Ethan’s trousers. Ethan undid them and slid them down, pulling the remnants of his briefs with them. Rupert was glad it was dark, so he could avoid looking at Ethan’s body for a few moments longer. Ethan raised his arms and looked at Rupert imploringly. Rupert leaned forward and gently pulled Ethan’s shirt over his head, then squatted next to the bed. He slipped an arm around Ethan’s chest and the other under his legs as Ethan wrapped his arms around Rupert’s neck.  
  
         He stood up and carried Ethan’s nude form to the bathroom, peering in to make sure the shared space wasn’t being used by Randall, whose bedroom was through the other end. Nudging the light switch with his elbow, they both squinted as their eyes adjusted to the brightness. Rupert sat Ethan outside the walk-in shower, then turned the water on, waiting for it to reach a comfortable temperature as he collected a washcloth and towel. He pulled Ethan into the shower, the water soaking Rupert’s clothes as he helped Ethan sit without slipping. Ethan raised his knees to his chest and held them.  
  
        “You idiot,” Ethan laughed. “You didn’t have to climb in here dressed to go dancing.”  
  
        Rupert ignored him, settling next to him on the shower floor. He covered the bar of soap with the washcloth, lathering it up before bringing it to Ethan’s face. He gently touched Ethan’s mouth, trying to remove the dried blood without hurting his lip further. With his other hand, he ran his fingers through Ethan’s hair, letting the water dampen it. Ethan closed his eyes and leaned into Rupert’s touch, lifting a weight off both of them.  
  
        He gently pried Ethan’s fingers off his knees. “Can you stand?”  
  
         He nodded, prompting Rupert to help him up. As his body uncurled, Rupert grimaced at the reddish-purple stains covering Ethan's lean frame.  
  
        “Fuck,” was the only syllable he could manage. Suspecting that the bruises had developed quicker due to the magic involved in creating them, he hoped they could be easier healed by magic as well.  
  
        Rupert dropped to his knees, rivulets of water running into his eyes. That was just as well, as it helped obscure the tears forming when he thought of how he’d hurt Ethan. He took a deep breath before placing his hands on Ethan’s hipbones. He brought his lips to the nastiest-looking of the bruises, kissing it lightly before murmuring words of healing.  
  
        “ _Sanatio_ ,” he said, then kissed the bruise again. “ _Curatio_.  _Medela_.”  
  
        Rupert watched as the bruise shrunk, turning from purple to red to a small pink mark. With an exhale of relief, he moved to the next bruise and repeated the process, a quiet whine coming from Ethan as his fingers threaded into Rupert’s hair. By nature of proximity, he couldn’t help but notice as Ethan grew aroused by his attentions, but decided to finish healing as much as he could before considering any baser desires. Moving around Ethan’s hips and thighs, he was able to eliminate or lessen most of the marks.  
  
        Rupert rose, coming face to face with Ethan again. He inched closer, brushing his lips over Ethan’s swollen mouth, the latter’s breath hitching before Rupert recited the healing spells over it. His lips retreated to nearly their former size, and the gash dividing the top lip shrunk to a scratch. Rupert pressed his lips against Ethan’s again, more forcefully now that he thought it wouldn’t cause more pain, but still in a display of tenderness. Water cascaded over their faces as Ethan returned the kiss and Rupert threaded their fingers together.  
  
        Rupert sighed as they broke apart, pressing his forehead against Ethan’s. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”  
  
        Ethan’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Good thing you’ll never have to.”


	8. Chapter 8

  
  
        “Steady, love, I told you this might hurt a bit.”  
  
        Ethan held Diedre’s arm in place as he traced the tattoo gun over her flesh. Surprising to him, Thomas and Diedre had announced the previous evening that she was ready to join the others in their rituals now. Now that Thomas wasn’t here, Diedre seemed less certain, if her squirming was any indication. Ethan eyed her new bright purple pixie haircut and wondered if she was just in an experimental mood this week.  
  
        She looked pointedly away from her arm, her eyes finding Randall in the corner, who was pulverising something pungent with a mortar and pestle. She frowned, then turned back to her new tattoo.  
  
        “I don’t know, Ethan,” she said anxiously. “I’ve done some reading on this Eyghon. It’s dreadful. And every bit emphasizes how deadly he is.”  
  
        He paused the gun’s vibrations to wipe his forehead, wishing Dee had voiced these concerns before he put a permanent mark of the demon on her skin. There was nothing for it now, he’d just have to make her more comfortable with the idea. Even if he wasn’t entirely convinced himself anymore.  
  
        “Yes, of course,” he began, slipping into his trademark sarcasm. "Here's the key to power, now don't use it. That's what all the books say, don't they?”  
  
        Diedre bit her lip, nodding.  
  
        “We're breaking down the old barriers. Making the occult serve us, not the other way around. I've done it myself, we all have.”  
  
        “What’s it like?” Diedre asked, her interest overcoming her unease.  
  
        “Actually being possessed, by a being who was old when the world was young… It's the most incredible high,” Ethan finished dreamily, wiping the excess ink off her forearm.

        Diedre inspected her new tattoo, running her finger over the tender flesh. “But what if something goes wrong?”  
  
        “Nothing will go wrong,” he assured her. “Ripper spent years at the Watcher Academy. All the training you could want.”

        She raised her eyebrows. “You said he  _dropped out_ \--”

        Both of them spun around at a sudden crash. Randall was splayed out on the floor, the overturned milk carton he’d been using as a table now launched across the room.  
  
        “Randall!” Ethan shouted, moving toward him. Randall began to seize, a frothy substance leaking out of his mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head.  
  
        “What's wrong with him?” Diedre cried frantically. “Did he get a bad dose of something?”

        Ethan bent down, examining the powdered substance that had spilled out of the mortar and pestle when Randall fell to the floor.  
  
        “I told that berk to cut it with the tannis root!” he said angrily. He turned back to Diedre. “Hold him. There's an incantation for this. If I can just remember the bloody words…”

        Diedre looped her arms around Randall's from behind, struggling to keep the man who was nearly twice her size from thrashing around.

        “ _Lupus sothal recido_ ,” Ethan incanted, then reconsidered, rubbing his temple. “No, wait,  _repressum_ \--”

         Randall was changing, his eyes bulging as his mouth continued to foam, his skin turning a deep reddish purple.  
  
        Diedre shrieked as she released Randall, jumping away from the horrific visage. “Oh my god!”

        “ _Lupus sothal repressum!_ ” came a booming voice from the doorway. Ethan looked up to see Ripper there as a flash of energy shot from his outstretched hand. It hit Randall in the chest, knocking him backwards. Randall fell still on the floor as his skin began to revert to its original hue. Ethan, Diedre, and Ripper stared in silence, then Randall stirred with a considerable groan.  
  
        The rest of them exhaled, Diedre rushing over to him. Ethan stared at Ripper, remembering when he was entirely theory-based in his magic, unwilling to progress past that which the Watcher Academy taught him. Ethan silently questioned when that had begun to change. Now, Ripper was stronger than Ethan was, any reservations about using magic for everything a thing of the past.

        “I had it…” Ethan muttered.  
  
        “Did you?” Rupert grinned. “Come on, I was only trying to help. Randall, you alright?”  
  
        Randall, still horizontal, feebly raised his hand in a thumbs up.  
  
        Rupert pointed at Randall, then slipped an arm around Ethan and squeezed. “See?”  
  
        Ethan sighed, his agitation soothed by Rupert’s energy surrounding him. Ru’s face looking effortlessly handsome when he flashed a casual smile, the way his shaggy hair brushed against the neck of his leather coat, the perfect firmness when Ethan moved his hand to Rupert’s arse, those things didn’t hurt either.  
  
           _He_ had been the one to push Rupert into practicing, a complementary force that helped both of them grow in power and control. Their magic was connected now, and Ethan suspected it always would be. He considered the books on chaos magic he’d been consuming at work, wondering if anything in them was the real deal. If Rupert kept getting stronger, Ethan would just have to find a way to keep up.


	9. Chapter 9

 

        After the display of violence that had ended the last ritual, it had actually become easier, summoning Eyghon. When Rupert and Ethan had emerged the morning after, weary but otherwise affectionate and normal, the others seem to have accepted the previous night’s events as a fluke and fallen back into their routine. The welcoming of Diedre, then Philip, into the fold had changed the group’s dynamic for the better, or at least made it more interesting. There were existing bonds within the group, of course- Rupert and Ethan, Thomas and Diedre- but the group collectively became a new entity all its own. In addition to the Eyghon rituals, there were endless nights out with the whole gang, dancing and conjuring and fighting and falling madly in love with each other as only young people seem to do.  
  
         Ripper looked around at the others as he added the final component, a pile of ash leaves, to the altar on the floor between them. Diedre looked anxious, Ethan excited as they linked fingers on either side of him and settled onto their respective piles of cushions and pillows. Ripper felt a bit of both- but beyond anything else, he felt power, red hot and coursing through his veins. The warmth traveled from his clasped hands with Ethan, up his arm to his torso, a fleeting feeling in his stomach before sending heat to his groin and making him gasp sharply. The stinging feeling lingered there as the warmth moved down his legs and feet and began making the cycle again. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation, then opened them, focusing in on Philip across the circle.  
  
         “So how is this supposed to go, mate?” Philip asked, itching at the healing tattoo on his arm. Between Philip and Diedre, Thomas remained silent and unreadable.  
  
         Ripper leaned back, keeping contact with Ethan and Diedre. “Now that everything is in place, we just need to maintain the energy until Randall arrives. Then we’ll perform the incantation to call Eyghon. It should go into Randall first, then each of us in turn, as long as we fall unconscious one at a time like we planned.”  
  
         Philip scoffed. “I don’t know about you lot, but I can’t fall asleep on a dime. How are we supposed to get the timing right?”  
  
         “You’d better learn quickly,” Ethan spoke up, eyes glinting, “or I’ll be forced to strangle you until you pass out.”  
  
          A cocky grin spread on Ripper’s face. “And we all know how Ethan would hate that.”

         He locked eyes with Ethan, long enough to give both of them ideas of how they’d be occupying their time after the summoning experiment concluded.  
  
         The sounds of unlocking the front door of their flat- if you could call a dingy warehouse of questionable construction a flat- broke their eye contact. The door opened a beat later, admitting Randall, who was striding in confidently as if he hadn’t agreed to be home half an hour ago.  
  
         Randall didn’t waste time exchanging pleasantries. “Everything ready?” he asked Rupert.  
  
         “As ready as it’s going to be,” Ripper replied simply.  
  
         “Alright then,” Randall said as he stepped over Diedre and Ripper’s arms and into the center of the circle. “Showtime.”

 

 


End file.
